LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.

Shelf

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

SSsrasaKiKcZ-'

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER

OCCASIONAL VERSES

EDWARD R. JOHNES

o. MM "

NEW YORK

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

182 FIFTH AVENUE
1879.

r

COPYRIGHT BY

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS.
iS7q

TO

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

PREFACE.

The poems contained in this volume have been
written at different times as fancy suggested a sub-
ject and time permitted its elaboration. A desire
that the fruits of my labor should not be scattered
and lost, together with a certain literary ambition
have led to the publication of this volume.

My title is intended more to assert the often
denied right of the Bar to express itself otherwise
than in prose, than to mark the character of my
verses, which were composed largely as relaxation
from professional duties.

Previous to the dedication of this book I wrote
to Mr. Longfellow the following letter :

My Dear Mr. Longfellow :

The pleasure and advantage that I have derived from
your works and the delight that I have experienced in your
society, make me desirious of dedicating my first literary ven-
ture to you. I enclose the corrected proof that I may with
better grace request your permission to inscribe it to you. I
know the dedication can add no lustre to your name, and
simply ask that I may add honor to my own.

Yours, sincerely, &c,

vi PRE FA CE.

In response to this I have had the honor of re-
ceiving a most kind letter from Mr. Longfellow,
expressing his willingness to accept the compliment,
as he is good enough to call it, of my dedication ;
so that I am at least not chargeable with a forced
dedication.

I now commit my little book, with mingled feel-
ings of hope and fear, to the critics and the public.

THE AUTHOR.

CONTENTS

The Fancy Ball

3

The Horoscope ....

7

The Outcast . .

9

At Home and at the "German"

ii

A Morning Welcome .

13

Another's .....

15

At Last .....

17

The Last Night at Home

20

My Kate ....

• 23

The Midnight Chime, Jan. i

25

"After" ....

. 29

Drifting .....

3i

The Caique ....

35

Album Verses ....

33

L'Envoy .....

40

The Law and the Lady . ' .

42

Honest Lawyers

■ 42

Just as You Are ....

43

"A Rose You Gave" .

• 44

The Porte Bonheur

46

Yesterday, To-day and Forever

. 4s

The Coming of the Frost

49

CONTENTS.

Alternatives .

Lost .

The Fountain of Fijeh

King Carnival

The Blighted Flower

The Masquerade .

Morning Twilight

Drinking Song

" Rest My Baby Queen '

When She is Gay .

Fountain Abbey

Fate .

Lydia

Flowers of Palestine

COLLEGE POEMS.

A Vision of Autumn .

Day Dreams

Our Songs

A Dollar or So

Disconsolate .

A Geological Romance

The Spirit of Sadness

On the Bay

Parting Ode

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

THE FANCY BALL.

The queen will go to the fancy ball

Where gallants are noble, and ladies are fair,

And has singled me out from her courtiers all,
And has deigned to demand of me " what shall I
wear ?"

For music will sound and glasses will clink
And diamonds will gleam and lights will flare,

And care will be drowned in the goblet's brink.
And laughter ring out on the summer air.

And the crowning glory must be the Queen,
Decked in a costume ne'er Avorn before,

Half masked, but revealed by her stately mien
And the face that her subjects are glad to adore.

4 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

What shall she wear — when a new disguise
To her can be only a duplicate charm,

To blend with her smile, and the flash of her eyes,
And to thrill her subjects with novel alarm?

Disguise — ah me, is the moon disguised

Because the thin clouds that are wafted o'er
heaven

Float over her face ? Nay, the angels devised
A change that increases the glory of even.

But what shall she wear ? 'Tis a difficult task
When like al'baster lamp with the light shining
through,
She would shine through her costume. Ah why did
she ask
A question to make even OEdipus blue !

Shall she go like summer, in crown of flowers,
Or glitter like winter in shimmering spray ?

Nay, her smile is our summer through all the hours,
And winter is frosty and chilling and grey.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 5

The maid of the lake comes next to my mind

Who ruled o'er an isle, Oh pitiful thought
When she reigns o'er the warm beating hearts of
mankind
And o'er such a realm her enchantment hath
wrought.

Now fact is prosaic, romance is unreal,

Book queens are unlucky and subjects are low,

Religion and science refuse to reveal

Where to look for her masque, so where shall I go?

I will go to the queen, where she sits on a throne,
Where'er she may be, her palace is there,

With a fan for a sceptre, and then I shall own
My utter disgrace, and my shame I'll declare.

I'll say — I will tell her — I dare not suggest

What robe she shall wear, for the thought should
come

From herself, and then it were surely the best,
For when she approves, the critics are dumb.

O BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

And whatever her choice, I would fain be there
To feast my eyes and to tangle my heart

In the silken web of her shining hair.

And linger the last when the throngs depart.

And long may she reign, our queen and our pride,
O'er the hearts where she's throned with each
holiest thought.

Here's defeat to her rivals, and sorrow betide
Who says that she lacks of perfection in aught !

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

THE HOROSCOPE.

To every one at birth God gives a star,
A guide, a guard, the mirror of his soul,

Casting its radiant influence afar

And marking tides of passion as they roll.

The power of love, the blaze of cruel ire,

Actions that turn on changing hopes and fears,

We find reflected in the heavenly fire,

And all our deeds are known among the spheres.

Alas, that ever hope and love should die

In human breast ; alas that wrath should scorch

Till from the heavenly index quick should fly
Pure gentle light — leaving a smouldering torch !

And if inactive grows the torpid soul;

Ah piteous sight ! the star we love grows dim
And quenched the radiance of the celestial pole

It sinks forever 'neath the horizon's brim.

8 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

Maid of my heart I've seen in yonder sky
The star whose placid light doth image thee,

'Mid thousand glories my discerning eye
Selects the mirror of thy purity.

Dear star be ever bright and ever pure

Guide in the night her footsteps to her home,

Bid her not let the darker paths allure

And gild her brow when she hath ceased to roam.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

THE OUTCAST.
No more I live, but only suffer life,
No more I sleep, but writhe in awful dreams,
And joy and peace are dead, and earth is rife
With many a mockery that smiling seems.

A veil the future screens, I dare not lift,
Yet as the winds of passion move its folds,
My gloomy hopes to hopeless darkness shift,
And my soul shudders when my eye beholds.

Backward I turn my gaze, and find remorse
Reaching with vulture claws toward my heart,
And grief and agony, and many a corse
Of buried days, that from me will not part.

Above I turn, and find the heavens black-
He whom I scorned hath blasted with his curse
The stars I loved, and on my awful track
Dim, lying swamp-lights lead from bad to worse.

) BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

See, where I tread, the scorpion and the snake,
Born of my crimes, arise to strike and kill ;
And mire and pits my wav'ring courage shake,
And spectres from deep hell my life-blood chill.

Hedged in with death and crime and visions dread,
Shut out from love and peace, from light and God,
Better, O mother, had I been born dead,
Than born the curse of the Almighty's rod !

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

AT HOME AND AT THE "GERMAN.

You'll seek the fireside warm to-night

While I, in fashion's train,
Will watch the diamonds glancing bright,

And eyes that flash again.

You'll find a golden store of dreams

And recollections fair
Within the coals, — while only seems

The look of joy I wear.

You'll fill your mind, and warm your heart,
With thoughts from noble books,

But I will guage, in folly's mart,
The price of folly's looks.

When I, unsatisfied, return

From bright but empty show,
To-morrow's visage looking stern, —

Within my mind will grow

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

The thought that fashion pays her slaves

Small wages at the best,
And early rounds, with unknown graves,

The lives that know no rest.

And so I'd rather be with you,

Discussing e'en a sermon,
Than looking gay, but feeling blue,

While dancing at the German.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

A MORNING WELCOME.
Before the footsteps of the sun,
Across morn's golden threshold run, —
Before he lifts the mists away
That curtain earth at break of day, —
Before his smiling beams confess
Fair Nature's wondrous loveliness, —
He colors with his wondrous dyes
The fleecy clouds that fleck the skies,
And hails the beauty of his queen
With amber, crimson, and with green.
And it might seem a gift of flowers
Fresh culled from Eden's blooming bowers,
Strewn wide upon an azure sky
In morn's sweet breath their perfumes lie.

And so before I enter in

To where my Phyllis lies in sleep,

Before I lift the curtain thin

That doth soft guard above her keep,

14 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

Before her eyes unclose, so filmy

With the tangled threads of dreams,

Before her loving kisses thrill me,

And life a blest Arcadia seems,

I bear a garland of fair flowers,

Kissed by the sunbeams and the showers, —

To welcome from the land of dreams,

— Her cheeks soft flushed with roseate gleams

My Phyllis, — thus with varied dyes

To rival Phoebus' tinted skies.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. I 5

ANOTHER'S.
Her eyes are bright, and in their depths

A gentle spell I see ;
They sparkle, but alas, the truth !

They do not shine for me.

Soft are her lips — their tempting lines,

Curved like a Cupid's bow,
Invite a kiss, but I, alas !

Their kisses ne'er shall know.

Her cheeks — the lily and the rose

Combined there seem to be ;
But though their changing beauty charms,

They do not blush for me.

Those little hands, whose velvet touch

Hath power for joy or woe,
They charm and tempt, but I in love

Their pressure may not know.

1 6 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

I've often thought my heart would know

A happiness divine,
That life would all unruffled flow,

If only — she were mine.

But oh I know 'tis sadly true

Possession breaks the spell
That chains to many lovely things,

As many hearts could tell.

Farewell, forever, — in my dreams,

I'll hold thee to my breast,
And feel my heaven is on earth,

By thy soft hand caressed.

And though awaking I shall find

My happiness was vain,
Upon its memory I shall live,

Until I dream again.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

AT LAST.

Just as life's little day draws to its close,
And dim and ill-defined the landscape grows
That I have loved so long ; just as the night
Spreads its dark wings before my fading sight,
My soul begins to see.

And from my spirit's eye the scales of sin

Fall down at touch of death, as though some hand

Had burst a prisons's door, and ushered in
A throng of joyous sunbeams to a band
Condemned — that would be free.

Is it death's hand that openeth mine eyes ?

There's that within the touch I've known before,
In times of suffering. A magic lies

In its soft tenderness, I must adore.
If it my Lord should be.

lb BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

Kind death, sweet Lord, to let me see the world
Enlarged by finer sight, until my soul,

Though with the speed of angel's pinions whirled,
Scarcely could view the vast, the glorious whole
In all eternity.

I have known Nature only in the flowers
Decking her locks, or in the tearful showers
That told me when she wept. Ne'er has mine eyes
Gazing in her's, drunk its full mystery ;
- And she was dumb to me.

Or, if she spoke, the meaning still Avas strange ;

An unknown tongue to me, a man unlearned
In things so deep, so dark, the widest range

Of human thought has but a taper burned
T' enable man to see.

Where lately I beheld a sturdy oak,

Or rosebud nodding in the twilight air.
Now I perceive that forms some meaning cloak :

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 1 9

In one I see resolve, in one a prayer ;
And the winds talk to me.

O purblind wretch ! how much I've groping passed :
How much of beauty have my wayward feet

Trampled upon ; what foolish slights I've cast
On what my awakened slight deems pure and sweet;
And now my thoughts are free

To view the past, and see beyond the veil

That hung before mine eyes while yet I deemed

Life precious. How little now avail

Those valued joys. Alas ! they only seemed.
Now, Lord I turn to Thee.

Thy glories call my willing spirit up ,

Thy love, that ope'd my eyes to Heaven's light,
Bids me dash down the wine of pleasure's cup,

To taste with Thee eternal, pure delight
Short may my waiting be.

20 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

THE LAST NIGHT AT HOME.

Round the room the lamplight floating,
Folds within its soft embrace

Many dear familiar objects,
Many a dear familiar face.

And I hear the children's voices,
Laughing out in gay delight ;

All around is love and comfort,
Yet I'm very sad to-night.

For the hours fly far too quickly,
And the night will soon be gone ;

I must leave upon the morrow,
Ere the shadows leave the lawn.

And the strength of bitter feeling
More than words can ever tell,

Spends itself in wistful gazing
On the forms I love so well.

BRIEFS B Y A BARRISTER.

Love still dearer now than ever,
For the knowledge we must part,

(Blessings brighten as they're flying)
Will be felt while beats a heart.

Oh, thou future ! dim and gloomy,
With thy whisperings of fate,

Heard by us, thy airy voices
Ever syllable "too late."

Aye, for love and youth's sweet dreaming,
Peace, and friendship's bounteous store

And for all, save death and sorrow,
!Tis too late — forevermore.

There are words that are half spoken,
There are tender eyes that fill,

Good-night kisses, — all are vanished,
And the night is dark and still.

Oh ! how many a noble impulse
Throbs its way into the light,

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

Gathers half its power and purpose
From the silence of the night.

And I felt high aspirations,
That will last where'er I roam,

Kindled 'mid the mournful silence
Of my last sad night at home.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

MY KATE.

In the splendor of satin or silk,

With a train a yard or so long,
With diamonds that glimmer and gleam

With hair — not a wave of it wrong.

In short, when my Kate marches forth

To an opera, dinner or ball,
For her match should you search through the throm

You would turn up your nose at them all.

For there's such an ineffable grace,

Such a ye ne sais quoi, in her air,
That amid an assemblage of queens

You'd avow her the queenliest there.

But nearer and dearer than this

Is a style that the world never sees,
She only assumes it for one,

And that one it's certain to please.

24 BRIEFS B Y A BARRISTER.

'Tis a costume of loveliest white.

Set off by slippers of blue,
That peer from her robe with a mite

Of a foot quite entrancing to view.

To be sure her hair is awry,

But its meshes, they tangle my heart,
And the curve and the snow of her neck

Are more than the touches of art.

The diamonds that glance in her eyes
Are more than the jewels she wore,

And her air, and her regal disguise —
I vote them a horrible bore.

Should you ask when I love her the most
My answer were speedily said, —

'Tis just as she smiles on me now
'Tis just before going to bed.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 25

THE MIDNIGHT CHIME, JAN 1.

In cold and darkness, and alone,
The year is dead ; the mingled tone
Of joy and sorrow from the bells,
Woven of welcomes and farewells,
Sounds on the night.

Those bells have rung for many a year,
And as their changeful notes I hear,
I catch an echo from the past,
I hear the future years forecast,
Both bloom and blight.

Their tone is joyful as they tell
How bound in wedlock's mystic spell
Two hearts were joined for weal and woe
Roses and thorns together grow,
But sweet the chime.

26 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

They tell of beauty and of youth,
Of ardent hope and glorious truth,
Of laughter, music, and the joy
That filled each heart, without alloy,
Oh halcyon time !

Then sad their tone — for there below
Lay one who died in health's fresh glow.
And the bells mourn for every tear
That fell upon that flower-decked bier,
And seem to sigh.

They mourn for sickness and for pain,
They plead against man's cold disdain
Of poverty ; they clang — for crime
Has heard the sounding of their chime
With undimmed eye.

Dear chimes, we hear again, with thee,
Voices that now are still, and see
Faces that earth shall know no more.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 2 J

And treasures gleaned from memory's store
That last for aye.

With the old year the sadness flies,
The sweet and joyous notes arise
To welcome in a year of peace,
Of happiness and fair increase,
Hope rules alone.

The seed must die for flowers to blow ;
The starlight fades for morn to glow ;
The old year dies, but in his place
The new year steps with youthful grace
Upon his throne.

We will not shade that sunny brow
With wreath of gloomy cypress now ;
But deck him with a mantle bright,
And crown with rays of earliest light,
And hail his rei°;n.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

Ring out, sweet chimes ; the reign of woe
Is ended— blessed the overthrow !
Tell to the clamorous bells that sound
In echoing joy the country round,

Peace smiles again.
Slowly melting on the ear
Sinks the cadence, sweet and clear,
Till the distance gently flings
Soft enchantment on the wings
Of the night-winds as they bear
Fainter murmurs on the air.
But as kind and gentle sleep
'Gins my drowsy eyes to steep,
Angel music rising seems,
Such as heard within our dreams.
On this house and home, O God !
Let Thy mercy be outpoured ;
Keep our bodies, Power Divine,
Save our souls— for both are Thine :
Grant that we next year may be
Nearer just one step to Thee.

BRIBFS BY A BARRISTER. 29

"AFTER."

The dance is ended, the music is still,

And the merry laughter is o'er ;
The moonlight is gilding the wood and the hill

It was ne'er so bewitching before.

Over the young and the happy who sleep,
The dream-god is weaving his spell,

While, waking, I gaze on the starry deep,
And hear what the night-breezes tell.

The story they breathe is old, I well know,

Yet now each time it is told,
Of a meeting, a waltz, of whisperings low,

Of moments more precious than gold.

Of a homeward walk 'neath the harvest moon,

A block or so out of the way,
Of farewell's ended, alas ! too soon,

By propriety's infamous sway.

30 BRIEFS B Y A BARRISTER.

'Tis such a night when the brownies love
To dance with the mischievous fays,

And they wove a spell around, above,
As they wheeled in an airy maze.

But the fairies stopped in their blithesome round,

The little ones stopped their play,
To see how sadly I turned to gaze,

How slowly I strolled away.

And so I'm alone building castles fair,
In the clouds that our floating above ;

For the drowsy god I've never a care,
He flies at the bidding of love.

But body must rest, though spirit may soar

In the cloudland realms o'erhead.
If I see her off on the early train

I'd better be off to bed.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 3 I

DRIFTING.

Why should I sow this seed ?

To-morrow I may die, then what avail
Vain hope or selfish greed ?

Dull, dreamless heads care not though harvests
fail.

Why should I toil and strive

Beneath the hot beams of the angry sun,
If, though my garden thrive,

I may not taste the pleasure I have won ?

Let me dream on my dream,

In peaceful langour let my limbs repose ;
'Tis hard to breast the stream,

But sweet to glide adown it as it flows.

O sweet, thrice sweet to see

The dark green branches bow above the tide.

32 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

And hear sweet melody

Breathed in my ears as onward still I glide :

To gaze upon the sky,

All flecked with white clouds drifting to the West,
Till through a loving eye

My fancy sees the islands of the blest.

Dull care is left behind,

Sweet peace consoles for tumults that are past ;
And thornless flowers now bind

My pillowed head — why do they fade so fast ?

Is there in dreamland aught

That fades and withers like the things of earth ?
Can death e'er conquer thought ?

Then were my spirit-kingdom little worth.

Earth's servants travel slow ;

Now, at the faintest beckoning of my will.
The sky is all aglow

With bright-winged slaves, who every wish fulfil.

BRIEFS B Y A BA RRIS TER. 3 3

Here let me ever live,

Here in the air-built castles of my brain ;
Such joys earth ne'er can give,
Earth has no spells like these to banish pain.

But hark ! I hear a sound

As if of many waters, in mine ear ;
Dread echoes swell around,

Again my soul awakens unto fear.

Where are the emerald shores ?

Alas ! far faded from my longing sight :
A veiling mist upsoars

And shuts me in with horror and with night.

The torrent bears me on,

Powerless to reach the far, the lovely shore !
Forms, spectre-like and wan,

Rise in my way. O ! had I waked before !

And must I wake to die ?

Is peace an enemy sent to betray

34 BRIEFS B Y A BARRISTER.

The king of earth and sky ?

And can my reign endure but one short day ?

Hopeless ! Is this the end

Of drifting tranquility adown the tide !
There, where the waters blend,

Eternity doth there from time divide.

Too late ! ah, never more

To tread the paths I loved, ere lying fate
Lured from the gentle shore

To idle dreaming ; for 'tis late, too late.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

THE CAIQUE.
A thing as light and free as air
See dancing on the water there —
A fairy craft of hues as gay
As grace the Naiads' holiday —
With graceful curve the pointed bow
Shivers the liquid crystal now
To feathery spray — now dances high
As if it lacked but wings to fly, —
A bubble glancing on the tide,
The ocean's newest, loveliest bride
That scarcely needs the bending oar
To speed it to the curving shore.

Still there in garb with rainbow dyes
The stalwart Greek his swift oar plies,
And boat and man advancing seem
As mirrored in the sparkling stream
The airy fancies of a dream.

36 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

With such a boat on such a sea,
Around — such glorious scenery,—
What sweeter than to float along
And let the winds' teolian song
Soft measures breathe above the wave,
While deep in many an ocean's cave
From mermaids' harps there gently creep
The songs that murmur o'er the deep
And soothe the soul to peaceful sleep.

There would I with my love recline,
And pledging to our love divine
In brimming cups of ruby wine,
I'd lull her soul to ease and rest,
Until, with love and wine opprest
She pillowed lay upon my breast.

Thus idly floating on for aye,
Beneath the tranquil azure sky,
We'd turn each sand of time to gold
And find with each a joy inrolled.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. IJ

No thought but love, no love but one
From blush of morn to set of sun.

We'd scorn the dead — their bones are cold, —
Laugh at the future, — 'tis untold
But linger in the present's bliss,
And be eternal in a kiss.

38 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER

ALBUM VERSES.
Far o'er the world I've sought for fleeting pleasure,

'Mid scenes most varied and 'mid people strange
And hope hath promised many a golden treasure

And passion led me o'er wild paths to range.

But phantom-like the charm has e'er eluded
My outstretched arms — I will no longer roam

And my tired heart no more to be deluded
Seeks holy calm in a New. England home.

For stranger's eyes I simply write my name,
It's place within your book its only fame,
If what I Avrote would meet your eyes alone
What I would write — ah ! that I dare not own.

I'll not attempt such compliments to pass
As I beheld within your book of late,

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

It is enough to say — gaze in your glass,
Mindful meantime of fair Narcissus' fate.

In asking me to write herein

My humble name, you pay to me

A sweet and graceful compliment

That with your grace doth well agree.

But by my faith, I'm not amazed

That charming compliments you pay,

So many you receive yourself,

It is not strange you've learned the way.

Lady I grieve the hour of parting nears,

Strangers we met on yester, friends we part —

The growth of friendship is not marked by years
But by the warm impulses of the heart.

4-0 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER

L'ENVOY.

To pay a clerk
For pleasant work

Would surely be a folly,
But rather he
Should pay a fee

For sinecure so jolly.

And so I send

To you fair friend
A bunch of flowers gay,

Please put amount

To the account
Of debts I cannot pay.

These roses bright
Were once pure white,
Yet what to them I said,
Made color rush

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

With mantling blush,
And now you see they're red.

Just put the tips

Of their red lips
Up to your listening ear,

Perhaps they'll tell

A message well
I fain would have you hear.

42 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

THE LAW AND THE LADY.

Marriage at best is but a lottery
And we, according to the chance we draw,
Regard with smiles or frowns the ties that bind us
And curse or bless the lady and the law.

HONEST LAWYERS.

To prove that lawyers honest are
In vain alas you try
While truth may be within their words
Their actions always lie.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 43

JUST AS YOU ARE.

As I stop amid my plodding,

Gazing down youth's joyous track,

Could I catch old Tempus nodding,
I would turn his dial back.

When ambition is my master,
Hope of future fame elates,

And I'd make Time's sands run faster,
Bearing on where glory waits.

But when to the dulcet viol

You dance sparkling like a star,

Then I'd like to smash Time's dial
Just to keep you as you are.

44 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

"A ROSE YOU GAVE."

After Ben. Jonson.

Lady to me a rose you gave

Red as those lips of thine,
With such resemblance 'tis not strange

I've pressed it oft to mine.

Soft is the rose leaf, but thy cheek,

Is softer and more fair
And love and peace and winning mirth

Lurk in the dimples there.

Some say they catch within a rose
A glimpse of Heaven's skies

I'm not the only one who sees
A Heaven in thine eyes.

Ah, laughing eyes that can grow sad
Now gay and now how meek

Your language sweeter far than words
How can I gaze and speak.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 45

Thou know'st not, lady, what a world

In little things I see
If only 't is thy hand bestows

A little gift on me.

To thee this rose is but a flower

That withers in a day ;
To me a fragrant memory

And that will last for aye.

46 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

THE PORTE BONHEUR.

Go, little plaything, to her snowy wrist,
And round it hang, and clasp it joyously,

She will not chide thy silvery laugh, I wist,
It chimes and echoes hers so truthfully.

Sport, little circlet, with her dimpled hand.
And when she dreams, oh press it tenderly,

And strive to make my lady understand

They are not dumb whose lips move silently.

Tell her that deepest thoughts can never find
The garb of words ; and they play doubtingly

Who, losing, must lose all, and be resigned
To travel ever 'neath a shadow, wearily.

Ring, pretty bells that grace this amulet,
Warning from danger, or to joy inviting ;

And when the shadows crowd, and sun is set,
Chime, sweetly chime, her dreaming thoughts de-
lighting.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 47

And, porte bonheur, what e'er thy queen may do,
Do not belie thy name — and happily

Thou may'st instruct me by what means to woo
A smile from her whose smile is melody.

48 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

YESTERDAY, TO-DAY, AND FOREVER.

But yesterday 't was summer, and the sky

Was clear, and love was wafted on the air ;
Youth smiled on joy, hope sparkled in my eye,
And life seemed fair.

To-day 't is winter, and the clouds drop rain,
Winds rave, my heart is filled with fear and hate.
Age frowns on joy, hope flies from tearful pain :
Death, thou art late.

Forever thus on Time's remorseless tide

Must we drift onward, 'till our sorrows given
Curse us with bitterness or gently guide
Our souls to heaven.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

THE COMING OF THE FROST.

" Bring out your dead ! " That was the only sound
That broke the silence of the Sunday morn.
"Bring out your dead," the wagons make their

round —
And to their hasty tombs the dead are borne.

The air was warm that sad October day
And to the sun the blushing peach-trees gave
A springtide welcome, nature's mask was gay,
But every lovely blossom marked a grave.*

Long had the fever raged within our town,
And hope was weary, and the hand of God,
Seen in the pestilence, struck households down,
And oh 't was hard to bless the cruel rod.

* " The weather has been warm and springlike so long that
the peach trees are in bloom." — Dispatch from New Orleans.

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The grass sprung up within the busy mart,
And rank weeds grew, while in the tainted air
Swarms of strange buzzing insects float and dart
And die in myriads — death is everywhere.

" God send a frost," we cried. " God send a frost,
Lest we all perish ; " but our sobbing prayer
Upon the stifling autumn breeze was lost
And a perpetual knell rang through the air.

By Edith's bed we sat, Dinah and I,
Dinah the faithful nurse and I still weak
With grief and fever, caring but to die
If I could no more hear my Edith speak.

For death had drawn his clouds across my sky

And Edith was the only star that shone

To light my life, a very Rachel I,

A widowed Rachel, lonely, faint and wan.

No sound was heard within the quiet room
Save the clocks ticking or the uneasy call

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 5 I

Of our sick darling, and the evening's gloom
Curtained the sultry landscape like a pall.

And then I fell asleep within my chair
And thought it was a dream, a horrid dream
This deadly scourge, yet somehow did not dare
To ope my eyes and prove it did but seem.

At last I woke and felt so icy cold,

I thought the fever's clutches on me still

And shuddered, thinking that my hours were told —

And yet it seemed the air was strangely chill.

'T was early dawn and Dinah, wearied, slept ;

Where Edith lay, a lily pale and weak,

A tiny sunbeam rested, it had crept

Through the closed lattice and it kissed her cheek.

In the dim room it seemed a heavenly guest,
First of a throng whose radiant forms outside,
Pressed close to enter on some holy quest.
And so I stole and threw the lattice wide.

5 2 BRIEFS BY A BA RRIS TER.

And oh what glory met my joyful sight —
The landscape covered with a silver sheen
Glowed splendidly in morning's rosy light,
And diamonds flashed amid the bushes green.

" Awake ! " I cried, " for God hath sent the frost,
The blessed frost, to save us all from death ;
Awake, good Dinah, Edith is not lost,
Hope has come back in autumn's frosty breath."

And on our knees we fell beside her bed,
Sobbing with joy in happy thankful prayer,
Until she woke — and a faint glow had spread
Upon a face that smiled away our care.

Fast through the town the joyful tidings spread,
And bells were rung, and happy greetings waved,
And heavy hearts forgot to mourn their dead,
Rejoicing with the living who were saved.

And while I live the coming of the frost
Will mark a day by sorrow undefined,
A friend in need when friends were needed most-
It stopped the pestilence and saved my child.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 5 3

ALTERNATIVES.

You who can read the cipher that the past

Has wrought upon the future's misty veil,
Can know how long will smiling pleasure last,

And how long sorrow press with grasp of mail,
If dream you can, dream on, a sombre thread

Of reason woven in your visions fair,
But if by fickle fancy you are led,

Soon will your hopes melt into viewless air.

You who can look within a woman's heart,

Can solve that Sphin::'s riddle graven there —
Perceive each cunning and deceptive art,

Love on, ' twere vain to say to you, beware !
But if you bow to beauty's power alone,

Dazed by the sparkling of a hazel eye,
Too late you find, with passion's witchery flown,

A serpent's hiss is hid within a sigh.

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Let him laugh on who lives but for to-day,

Whom folly leads amid her thoughtless throng,
A nerveless mass of cold and sluggish clay,

Not moved by beauty nor aroused by wrong ;
None else can laugh, but hears within the sound

A tone of bitter sorrow, of farewell,
A death-note to the happiness around

Recalling him to griefs he knows too well.

Let him quaff on, who longs and prays to die,

Whose peace and hope and love are buried all
Who thinks all life a hollow mockery,

A gloomy land where mournful shadows fall.
Or let him find when, from the festal cup

Youth's fair enchantment 's gone, the draught
grows flat,
And see within the goblet mirrored up,

A leering spectre that he trembles at.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 5 5

LOST.

Weary I rise from off my sorrow's couch,

And gaze upon the shadows as they grow

And lengthening blend, and see the twilight shroud

The earth as sadness has my loving heart.

She has not come, although the stars have marched

In solemn majesty across the sky,

And birds have hailed the glory of the dawn

Since she departed. Oh that thoughtless word,

Spoken in anger, born of jealousy,

Regretted ere the portals of my lips it left,

But now a bitterness eternally,

I can recall it never, nevermore.

One word, "depart" has driven from my home

The only thing that made a home for me,

And desolation takes its drear abode

Beside the hearth whereon the fire hath died.

Last night I sleepless tossed, and would have prayed

Had I not feared that God would deem my prayers

56 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

As self-inflicted curses, — so I moaned

And wished for day, and when the morning fell

Upon the pillow where she used to lie,

Then did I curse the day that made me see

I was alone, and e'en forbade my soul

The respite of a fancy or a dream

That she was by my side. I shut my eyes

And as I sit in her accustomed place

Lost deep in musings, I could swear I heard

The merry music of her pattering feet, —

But when I turn, silence resumes its reign,

And the dead weight again falls on my heart.

" Oh, little one," I cry, " my eyes are wet

With love that dares not hope for love again,

Oh my soul's darling " could you see these cheeks

Grown pale and cold while watching your return.

Could I but speak an instant, sure your heart

Would deem one word by far too small a thing

To blight a home, and sever loving hearts."

But oh ! I fear to all things of earth

Your ears are deaf forever ; and remorse

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. S7

Hears in each breath of air that moves the trees

A sobbing miserere or a sigh.

So if my watching is of no avail,

If steeped in sorrow all my life must be,

If gall must be my spirits only food,

And heart to heart I never may enfold

Her who was food and drink unto my soul,

If day and night must follow day and night

In monotone unending till the day

When I must hide my sorrows in the tomb

And lay me down to rest from pain at last. —

Oh God, if I must wait and bear the woe

So long, oh heaven, grant my sole request

The only one these impious lips will make, —

Let it not be forever. Though the worm

Destroy our bodies, let the despairing cry

Of thy poor creature, reach thy pitying ear,

And if it may be, let her spirit know

Within that dim and distant land, my heart

Has only throbbed in unison with hers.

Heaven without her were to me a hell,

5& BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

And even hell with her to me a heaven.
And if thy mercy and thy justice live
Let not man's frailty and his folly blast
Eternally, a soul that thou hast made.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

THE FOUNTAIN OF FIJEH.

[Not far from Damascus the river Abana springs from the hill-side by
a ruined templo of the wood-god Pan. The beauty of the stream
and the sad solemnity of the old Roman temple by its side suggested
the following lines.]

The waters gush with sudden rush

From out a cavern sounding,
And on its course like untamed horse,

A crystal stream is bounding.

And soon in play, with silvery spray,
And foam that wreathes and whitens,

Where sunbeams gleam adown the stream,
Abana's water brightens.

Beside the flood there long has stood

A ruin strange and hoary,
And by its door the waters pour

And whisper of its story.

How long ago the rivers' flow
Swept underneath the portal,

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And o'er the porch the sacred torch
Burned with its fire immortal,

No tablets tell, but all know well

That solemn pomp attended
The fasti, while the massive pile

Upreared its columns splendid.

By moonlight pale in haunted dale
The nymphs are heard complaining,

Their glories flown, their shrine o'erthrown,
A chaos sad remaining ;

With ruined walls on which there falls

A sunlight rich and golden,
And shadows deep from which there creep

Dim memories, strange and olden.

Thy temple, Pan, the work of man.

Hath crumbled 'neath Time's fingers,
And in this hour, of all thy power,

A fading memory lingers.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 6 1

Yet by the door the waters pour

Among the shadows dancing,
Still fresh and clear from year to year

Beneath the sunbeam's glancing.

Within man's mind, methinks I find

A likeness to the fountain,
And in his frame I see the same

Strange temple by the mountain.

Though firm and grand man's work may stand,

Ere long it must have crumbled
To dust away, and human clay

To dust must too be humbled.

But from the hill the fountain still

As now will flow forever,
And to its goal the eternal soul

Sweeps on — as flows the river.

62 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

KING CARNIVAL.

Now the days are clear and bright
And the stars begem the night ;
Ere that sable Lent be come,
Ere the lips of joy are dumb,
Meet it is that one and all
Homage pay King Carnival.

Born three thousand years ago,
Rome beheld his glories grow,
Pagan Saturn's favorite child,
Nature joyous, temper mild,
Pagans turned to Christians, fall
At the feet of Carnival.

He is such a merry King,
And his happiness doth fling
On his court all glittering bright
Endless radiance of delight,

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 63

And he firm will hold his seat
Long as human hearts shall beat.

Carnival reigns in disguise ;

E'en the color of his eyes

Change and change, and fresh surprise

Sees each new illusion rise.

Now he's short and now he's tall,

Now a devil, now a priest,
Golden locks or white hairs fall

O'er a grave or at a feast.

Striped dress of harlequin,

Suit grotesque of pantaloon,
Squeeze if stout and stuff if thin,

Not to be discovered soon,
On mystery doth gladly fall
The laughing eyes of Carnival.

Brothers for the shadow striving,
Take the substance and be gay,

Gloomy lives are not worth living
Do not cloud life's little day ;

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

Doff toil's stiff and sombre pall,
Don court dress for Carnival.

Smooth the wrinkles from your faces,
Dry, of grief those lingering traces ;
Turn time's dial gently back,
Wayward roam on childhood's track :
Let the voice of pleasure call
Joyous throngs to Carnival.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 65

THE BLIGHTED FLOWER.

There grew in my garden a flower,

In the days long ago,
And bathed in the sunshine and shower.

My heart saw it grow.

I guarded and watched it with care
And prayed in the night,

That it should be charming and fair
Till the coming of light.

I laughed at the storm and the wind

So it was the same
Its tendrils more dear to my mind

Than the voices of fame.

For all my existence was wrapped

In that delicate flower,
By its side, in happiness lapped,

I sat hour after hour.

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The birds sang their sweetest of lays,
And tc it in the gloom

The voice of the wind seemed in praise
Of its wondrous perfume.

In the garland Sandalphon doth bear
Of prayers into Heaven,

To none of the flowers, even there
Such beauty is given.

I mingled my breath with its breath,'

Its life was my all,
I thought not the footsteps of death

Could e'er on it fall.

But unguarded I left it by night,

When the Autumn was mild,

And the chill frost came in its might,
And it murdered my child.

And the glory I worshipped was gone,
All faded the leaves —

And the flower in my garden was wan
As the pale Autumn sheaves.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 57

THE MASQUERADE.

I stood amid a throng

Of dames and gallants proudly dressed,
And there was light and song,

And joy was brimming in each breast ;
Time bound his hour-glass with a wreath of flowers,
Whose opening beauties marked alone the hours.

Ah, there were starry eyes

To light the soul to heaven or hell,
And lips whose crimson dyes
The eager soul of passion tell ;
And there were rounded arms, and necks of snow
And cheeks soft mantling with youth's rosy glow.

It was a goodly sight

But fairer still it was to be,
For soon upon the night

Poured forth such melody

68 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

That its sweet flowing torrent whelmed the soul,
And love and pleasure seemed life's only goal.

And through the gorgeous hall

The gay dance spirit 'gan to move
Kindling the hearts of all,

Teaching the willing feet to rove.
Till all is motion, all is brimming life
Where grace and beauty meet in charming strife.

And oh that music's swell

Sadder than angel choirs, may give,
Sweeter than mortal lips can tell

Grander than hearts may feel and live —
'T was bitter sweet, uniting hopes and fears,
And when we laughed, our cheeks were wet with
tears.

But as I gazed around

Dazed by the splendor of the sight,
And felt my pulses bound

And followed fancy's daring flight,

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 69

Lo and behold the scales fell from my eyes,

The scene was changed — I stood in dumb surprise

Where is thy beauty now

Oh maiden with the sunny hair ?
Upon thy marble brow —

The tomb has set its signet there,
Where lately danced the laughter-loving eyes
I see a loathsome cave where dread corruption lies.

Think'st thou a rose in bloom

Nods o'er thy graceful, pretty head ?
A flower that loves the tomb,

It is the night-shade, bloody red ;
Why of thy silken dress art thou so proud,
Art thou quite sure thou wearest not a shroud ?

Oh snowy heaving breast

That bearest hopes as ocean ships

And storms in mad unrest

With lovers' warmly meeting lips

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Sink, sink thy hopes, thy love will follow fast,
And time will hide thee in his sands at last.

The burning sighs of love

And warmer kisses do consume
In kindling, hearts that move

With warming glory through life's mournfi
gloom
Like burning vessels on their watery tomb
Their brighter splendor is more certain doom.

The rounded limbs of youth

The glorious forms that wooed the eye
The cruel hand of truth

Hath stripped them of their majesty —
What substance does thy clearer judgment own
A little tissue, and a little bone.

Lustre of golden hair —

'T will rust that now so brightly gleams
Rose blent with lily fair

They fly more fast than hopeful dreams ;

BRIEFS .B Y A BARRISTER. "] I

The buoyant step that lightly skims the floor
'T will falter soon — too soon be heard no more.

It is a masquerade

Where Grief and Woe I plainly see
Acting 'mid lights that fade,
With hollow laugh a mockery
Of joy and glittering prosperity,
While scalding tears down trickle silently.

Oh yes, a masquerade

Where Falsehood bears the garb of Truth
Vice trips it as a maid

Age wears the garb of hopeful Youth,
And dire Disease scarce hides its loathsome dress,
Under the cloak of healthful loveliness.

The form of Power I saw

Towering above the throng, and blood
Spotted his dress, and Law

Cowered trembling behind him as he strode ;
But 'mid his train did Treason play a part
And crouched with dagger pointed at his heart.

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And they did hold as real

The beauty, happiness and light,
Nor saw the slow hours steal

From ebbing life some dear delight
But led by hope they ever turned their eyes,
Dim with vain watching, to the future skies.

And as I saw all this

And mocked in keen satiric vein
The farce that pleasure is, —
I stood before a mirror free from stain,
Wherein I saw what did my soul appall
That reason's farce was bitterer than all.

Trembling I turned my eyes

To where, above the eddying throng
Aloft I saw arise

The throne of music and of song
Thence came the sounds whose maddening cadence

fell
O'er human heart-strings — a compelling spell.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

There played a spectre host

Come from the grave to mock at life
And lead the soul till lost

In wildering maze of music's strife.
And all the ample front of genius wore,
And one sad soul that was a friend before.

And he whose guiding wand

Held in such full and rich accord
That vast melodious band

Lo he was Death ! the awful lord
Of joy and sorrow, from whose icy breast
Well the full fountains of our life's unrest.

Death led the orchestra

And as he watched the thoughtless throng
He hoarsely laughed ha ! ha !

" Ha ! ha ! " quoth he, " 't is not for long
These puppets mock me with their feeble breath
E'en now they follow in the dance of Death."

Then hushed the music's swell

Then ceased the eager, joyous dance

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O'er all dread silence fell,

And dying lights forgot to glance
Then my soul shuddered at the gathering gloom,
And knew at last the palace was a tomb.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 75

MORNING TWILIGHT.

Before earth's fettered beauties are released
From thrall of darkness, ?nd of veiling mist,

Ere the red glow is kindled in the East,
And the far hill-tops by the sun are kissed,

I oftimes gaze upon the chilling void

Of pulseless nature, and my heart grows cold.

And hope and love within me seem alloyed
By more of fear and doubt than could be told.

So when Aurora tints each snowy cloud

To herald Phoebus in his robes of light,
And to the west the hurrying shadows crowd,
And nature lifts her cloud, oh goodly sight,

Then fly the shadows from my gladening heart,
Then breaks hope's sunshine on my eager eyes,

Oh then my doubts and cruel fears depart,

The sun of love hath dawned within my skies.

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For nature now commands me mourn with her
Till the horizon turns for red from grey.

And the glad lark within his nest astir

Joins with my heart to welcome in the day.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 77

DRINKING SONG.

Come raise your goblets boys, and pledge

A health to all the fair,
But let each see within the cup

His loved one pictured there ;
The mantling glow upon her cheek,

The sparkle of her eyes,
Her ruby lips whose touch would tempt

A saint from Paradise.

Again fill up, life was not made

For sorrow or for tears ;
Away with care, drown out with wine

These base foreboding fears.
To-morrow comes — aye, let it come,

A year were not too long
Tc spend in such good company

With mirth and wine and song.

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We're gods, my boys, the wreath that binds

The hero's lofty brow,
Bears not one half the matchless light

That circles round us now :
We're gods, each drop that flows to-night

From Bacchus' veins shall be
An earnest of our power divine

Our immortality.

Then let us laugh at grim old death

And all his ghostly crew —
By Jove, 'twould warm their dry old bones

Could they but taste our brew ;
Then fill once more and though we know

Enough's enough for some,
We jolly gods will drink to drown

The thirst that is to come.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 79

" REST MY BABY QUEEN."

Rest my baby queen and slumber,
Thou hast reigned too long to-day,
Sleep in peace, o'er realms of dreamland
And the fairies hold thy sway,
While the golden locks that crown thee
O'er thy temples gently play.

How the dim light gently stealing
Through the curtains overhead,
Throws a hundred wav'ring shadows
On thy soft and snowy bed,
May thy spirit, oh my darling,
Have no darker ones to dread.

Rest my baby queen, thy mother
Watches fondly o'er thy sleep,
In her heart for thee are swelling
Hopes and fears for words too deep,

SO BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

Oh ! there's none within the future
Will such loving vigil keep.

May the angels guard and keep thee
Through the watches of the night,
May thy Saviour through life's darkness
Guide thy trembling footsteps right,
Till thou rule with Him forever
Where the skies are always bright.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 8 1

WHEN SHE IS GAY.

When she is gay, her laughing eyes
And dimpled rosy cheek,
And curving lips and cunning ways
Might make a statue speak ;
When she is gay, I love her more
By far I think, than e'er before.

When she is sad, her downcast eyes —

The tears that gently creep,

Like pearls adown her velvet cheek

Would make an angel weep ,

I love her more when on my breast

She lays her head to be caressed.

But when her eyes are closed in sleep,
Whose dewy tenderness
Softens her face, until it wears
A wond'rous loveliness.

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Then waking beauties all depart
For then I hold her to my heart,
Though sad or joyful dreams befall
Ah then, I love her most of all.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 83

FOUNTAINS ABBEY.

Thou mouldering pile whose solemn pillars lift
Their graceful arches to the summer sky,

Whose ivy draperies the soft winds shift

And wreath and mantle round thee as they sigh —

I love thee well, and as my head reclines

Where strange deep shadows sleep upon the lawn,

Upon thy ruined state my soul repines
While musing sadly on thy glories gone.

The sky is flecked with clouds whose fairy forms
March past the frame that yawning arches make,

In calm procession, and the sunlight warms
The scene to life and flashes o'er the lake.

All, all around is beautiful, but still

I scarcely see the beauties of to-day,
Nor hear the song birds warbling on the hill,

Nor the brook chattering on its pebbly way.

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My heart is with the past, and to my eyes
Fixed lovingly upon yon massive pile,

A hundred visions from the past arise
And fancy builds anew the roofless aisle,

And hear those glorious mellow bells ring on
That in the olden time called men to prayer,

When the soft colors in the west grew wan
And mist arose like incense on the air.

From out yon lofty tower upon whose brow
Hang crests of green, their harmony still wells,

And time and ruin can scarce banish now
The inspiration of those golden bells.

But midnight hears them, so the peasants say,
Ringing out sweetly on the charmed air,

Swung by the hands of many a lovely fay,

Who dwells and weaves a soft enchantment there.

All that can speak unto a human heart —
Of grief is there, and as the accents blend,

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 85

From my sad eyes the charms of sense depart
And dreams their potent necromancy lend.

A long processional of priests in grey
Files solemnly adown the battered aisle,

I see their gleaming torches on the way
Light up the fallen glories of the pile.

A spectre host, with sorrow in their eyes,
And at their head the abbot as of old,

Marches majestic in his regal guise
And mitre glistening with gems and gold.

Silent, unmoved they march until they reach
The desecrated altar, and they see

That holy place where holy men did teach,
Lain low to mix with earth's impurity.

And then a horror fell on every face

And a long shudder ran adown the line,

While on each ghostly visage I could trace
A bitterness I trust may ne'er be mine.

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And the grave abbot raised his hands on high
As though imploring strength the wreck to scan,

Then broke from silence as his sorrowing eye
Fell on the ruin wrought by time and man.

" Oh God, is this reform, is this the end

For which so long they strove with word and.
sword,

Is this the homage that their hearts did lend.
Is this their boasted worship of the Lord ? '

" These vague entablatures, these mossy stones,
Once chiselled into beauty and to life,

E'er in their silence speak in solemn tones
Of ruthless fury and of causeless strive."

" Is the world purer that our sacred rites
Died at the bidding of a wicked king,

Or is the hand benevolent, that blights
And grasping avarice a sacred thing ! "

" Where hospitality with pitying hand
The weary wanderer to its bosom took,

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 87

Where love with charity each failing scanned

And warmed with kindness whom the world for-
sook."

'•' Now melancholy holds her gloomy sway
O'er broken arch and desecrated shrine ;

There all the day do broken shadows play

And dreary winds mourn o'er the trailing vine.

"Where learning shone and in religious light
Found power to lift the darkness from mankind,

Now whirr the wings of sombre birds of night
And o'er the altar clambering vines are twined.

" O holy church, thou Heaven-given light !

Is man still blind to thy inspiring ray —
How long, oh God, before thy lightnings smite,

How long before thy sword is raised to slay ! "

And then arose a sad and solemn song

Chanted in unison, and full of grief,
As if each heart had borne its sorrow long,

And in its utterance would find relief.

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Now swelling high it sobbed its bitterness
In notes complaining to the very sky,

Then died away in plaintive whisperings,
And sunk to silence in a half-heard sigh.

Weak faltering words, how poorly they convey
The wondrous harmony that wakes in sleep ;

That thrills the heart and bids it hope and pray
A.nd fills the soul with yearnings pure and deep.

For in some dreams our spirits tread beneath
Their winged feet the soul restraining clod,

And catch an echo of the songs that rise

In matchless sweetness round the throne of God.

So seemed the song I heard, and when I woke
Then not the less it seemed an angel song,

And ne'er were silence's mystic spells ere broke
By gentler counter-charms — in chorus long.

The village choir of little children sang
A simple hymn, but from those lips so pure

It was angelic, and those dim aisles rang
With sweeter, holier echoes, I am sure,

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Than they had known for many a lonely year ;

Reconsecrate they seemed by that soft strain
That bore so much to hallow and endear

That I again to catch its notes \v0ui4 fain.

And I baptized anew, felt all my pride
And foolish questionings of God depart ;

My rage at man's impiety subside,

And holy calm came flooding o'er my heart.

Systems arise before a wondering world

And play their parts, and vanish, and decay

Preys on their monuments, statues are hurled
Down to the earth to mix with kindred clay.

But naught is purposeless, they are not dumb,
These mouldering ruins, but they have a voice

Speaking from silence unto those who come
To muse upon them, and it saith — ■" Rejoice,

" To perish is to live once more, no death,
There is but only change, like man we fall

That we may give our praise with purer breath
To Him who changeless watches over all."

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FATE.

On, can we steer our fragile bark across

The stormy ocean, where the cruel rocks

And treacherous sands, like hungry monsters wait

The adventurous manner ? Nay, at the helm

The inexorable past, with gathered power

Of centuries maintains despotic sway ;

And though we man the yards and trim the sails,

Thinking poor atoms to direct our course —

The truth remains, that we must still obey

The things that have been, and the fate that is.

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LYDIA.

Suggested by one of Datidet's heroines.

When Lydia assumes her regal mien,

Who would not vow she looked the perfect queen ?

And having bought a place amid her train,

Who would not deem himself a happy swain ?

Who would not swear on being half acquaint,

That Lydia was little short of saint ;

And who that gazed her liquid orbs within

Would think such ports could harbor aught of sin ?

But as a storm oft lurks in cloudless skies,

She hides herself behind her glorious eyes :

Thence sails she forth on every favoring breeze,

The female pirate of domestic seas.

A sylph in body, but a fiend in soul,

With face that knows to play its proper role ;

Sweet is her smile, till she has drawn one in

The shining web the spider knows to spin.

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And when too late he stops to count the cost,
Bankrupt of peace with hope and honor lost,
She flings him from her with a scornful eye,
And leaves him caught, to struggle and to die.
With hand of satin, but with heart of stone,
She finds a jest in every human moan
Pretending sympathy, unmoved she hears
Affliction's struggles — and she mocks at tears.
Though in all walks of life her actions halt,
She's prompt to criticise each venial fault ;
Before her poisoned tongue who can remain,
Free from the power of culumny to stain ;
While like Satanas, when he sees a saint,
By sore temptation gone beyond restraint,
She smiles to think one character the less
Remains to blame her cursed loveliness ;
And in her silvery laugh that thrills the air,
You hear the devils laughing at despair.
Though jealous she, as if she really loved.
Her hand to strangers lips is e'er ungloved.

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To feed her vanity, without ado,

She'd swear, dance, drink, or go a demi nice.

She'd win you, wear you — if you were the fashion,

(More women yield through vanity than passion.)

Till when you cease to interest her more,

Or sameness wearies ; " there, my friend 's the door."

Alas, that gentle speech and maddening kiss,

Should chime so nearly with the serpents hiss.

Alas, fair one, that thy bewildering toils

Should ever close and crush like serpents coils.

As ignorant as folly with her bells,

To every friend some little failing tells.

And all unable of herself to rise,

She laughs at those within whose eager eyes,

Learning for learning, self appears a prize ;

But judging all men by the guinea's clink,

A diamonds gleam supplies the power to think.

With naught but vanity or cruel dust,

To spur to thought ; a creature of the dust ;

With no ambition, save to basely reign,

And no religion but a graceful train ;

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She goes through life, a shadow and a show,
A mocking lure, the pride of imps below.
Selfish and cruel, small of heart and mind,
What could have brought this curse upon mankind
Perchance kind Heaven wishing to reveal,
How much of Hell a woman could conceal,
Hath framed this Circe with an angel face,
And winning ways to harbor all disgrace :
To be a warning unto all our youth —
A lie may live behind a face of truth ;
And passion's cup may be with rosy lips,
A life's damnation unto him who sips.

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FLOWERS OF PALESTINE.

Stern time has left upon the landscape's face,

Of Israel's glory scarce a lingering trace ;

The shining cities that crowned every hill,

Lie in their ashes, and their voice is still ;

The broken rampart and the crumbling tower

Alone, attest the splendor and the power.

Of Judah's Lion, and implore a tear

For Palestine so wasted and so dear.

Ah, sad her fallen state, an impious brood

Of Turkish tyrants, blinded but to gain,

Profane with impious hand the holy rood,

And raze her glorious ruins to the plain.

But nature guards these memories of eld

And adds a charm to all this hallowed ground,

Embalms each golden legend in the stone,

And strews with lavish hand sweet flowers around.

Where chilling winds mourn Shiloh's ruined state,

Or whisper wierdly of Samaria's power,

go BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

Or whistle round the houses of the great,
That now are ruins — there some charming flower,
Smoothing the trace of time's destroying hand,
Makes beautiful, what were too sadly grand.
Oft'times an ancient bridge that spans a stream,
Adown whose dancing tide the foam flakes gleam.
Will bear fair flowers upon its crumbling sides,
That press and cling round every chink and seam
Till nature joins what cruel time divides.

As, when from wasted forni, the last faint breath
Has sped, and suffering is calm in death,
Some gentle hand may smooth from off the brow
The tangled ringlets, and may close those eves,
That ne'er were opened save in love till now ;
So nature's hand has brought her richest dyes,
To smooth the furrows of these giant hills.
To make the desert blossom like the rose,
Till loving wonder all the spirit fills.
And there is left no resting place for woes.
Those hills of adamant, whose rocky crests

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Loom grey and barren 'gainst the azure sky,

Where seen afar, a purple halo rests,

With lighter tints that blend with blue on high ;

Bear bright anemones, and the blooming plain

So sweetly challenged blushes back again.

There nods the daisy, and our spirits roam

Across the ocean to our distant home,

And thoughts of other days throng thick and fast,

And sad regrets for pleasures that are past.

The blue-eyed mary, speaks to every heart

Of her most blessed of women here below,

Whose face immortal with the touch of art,

Speaks of divinest love and deepest woe.

Bowing its graceful head upon the stem,

Emblem of hope, the star of Bethlehem.

Evokes the glorious story of that birth,

That angels hailed with peace, good will on earth.

A loving thought, a floral memory,

Sweet star of Bethlehem thou seem'st to me,

A score of other flowers with bloom as fair,

Shed their sweet perfume on the gentle air.

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A hundred inspirations start to life,
Mid the bright mazes of this floral strife.
But mock the soul with fancies too divine,
To find a mirror in such words as mine.

Emblems of life that flourish o'er decay,
Your beauties herald still a brighter day.
The man has seen. Though oft o'er Galilee,
The crimson dawn hath spread its banners wide
Among the clouds, and heavenly alchemy,
Blent with the purple of the mountain side.
Entrance the eye, and gleaming o'er the lake
Command all slumbering nature to awake :
A brighter dawning, a more glorious light
Will beam on Galilee and all the earth,
And the mute prophets of each rocky height,
Dazzling like purest gems of wondrous worth.
Will don such colors as man never sees,
Save in the rainbow timings of the sky,
In honor of their Christ, and on the breeze
Will waft a fragrance that shall never die.

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And with the beautiful of soul, the flowers
Shall ever number, though their earthly form,
Wither and fall mid eaith's decaying bowers,
In bloom eternal they shall live, where comes no
storm.

IOO BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

COLLEGE POEMS.

A VISION OF AUTUMN.

Playfully the fresh wind rustles

Through the tossing, gleaming leaves,

Many a shimmering rift of sunlight
Through the trees the grass receives.

All the air seems palpitating,
Quivering with hope and life,

In the boughs the birds' sweet singing
Blends, a maze, of charming strife.

On the grass the lengthening shadows
From the trees and houses fall,

Silently they gloom and darken
Till they blend and cover all

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Only in the mellow distance
Rises high a slender spire,

That the setting sun has gilded
With a touch of golden fire.

Sadness gathers with the darkness,
And the evening mists begin

O'er the earth to wreathe and whiten,
So I slowly turn within.

Sadness fits the soul for dreaming,
Phantoms, view my wondering eyes,

From the darkness of my chamber
Visions of the past arise.

Sits a student by the table,

In his bright and " morning face,"
Blend, the shades of grief dispelling,

Laughing light and winning grace.

In his eyes the love-light kindles
As he reads a letter o'er,

BRIEFS B Y A BARRISTER.

Gently smiling, as he ends it —
Only to begin once more.

Soon he vanished, lo another
Bodied forth before my gaze,

'T is a student on whose forehead
Shadows rest of mournful days.

He is reading, too, a letter,
And the bitter, scalding tear

Tells the sad, the old, old story
Of the grave, the pall, the bier :

Now the world is bathed in splendor,
Now, 't is shrouded all in gloom,

Lights must gleam, and shadows darken
Even in the student's room.

BRIEFS B V A BARRISTER.

DAY DREAMS.

He. whom fond imagination

Leadeth by her mystic hand
Through the realms of the ideal,

Through that strange and dreamy land,

Ever clothes the world in beauty,
Turns dark Winter into Spring,

And mid all his airy castles
Bid unceasing music ring.

With him joy is ever present,
And amid love's wild'ring maze

Golden hours and crystal minutes
Lead along his happy days.

Brightly hope's prophetic pencil

With celestial spirit fired,
Paints upon the future's curtain

All ambition has inspiied.

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And the sad reverberations
Of each slowly tolling bell

Sound like silver chimes that promise,
For the future, all things well

As the leaves of golden Autumn
Are the fairest on the trees,

When they wait but for the wooing
Of the wind-harp's symphonies.-

So when our day dreams are brightest
And their bonds, so light to bear,

Make us willing, loving captives,
Soon they melt into the air.

As the sun although departed
Ever leaves some trace behind,

In the fleecy clouds soft gilding,
In the warm and balm)- wind ;

So as memory doth lead us

Down the dim aisles of the past,

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 105

Wav'ring shadows of our day dreams
On our time-worn path are cast.

And each weird and changeful shadow
Beckons with its ghost-like hand,

Urges e'en in deathlike silence
To the good, the true, the grand.

I06 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

OUR SONGS.

Amid the starlit silence of the night,

Beneath the rustling elm trees dappled shade.

From blended voices rise our college songs,
And echo softly through each leafy glade.

A maiden slumbers and her fair young face,
Bathed in the dewy tenderness of sleep,

Beams with a smile, as through her dream-led brain
In bright succession fairy fancies creep.

Faint, from the witching distance, sweetly borne
Upon her ear, the mellow cadence swells,

And half awake she thinks her dreams are real,
And to the listening night, her visions tells.

She hears, as on the wind the song expires,

One silvery voice, whose tones, well knows her
heart,

That sounds through all her castles in the air,
And doth new magic to each hope impart.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER. 107

Over his dreary task a student sits,

While on the ancient, cobwebbed, grimy wall,

From lamplight streaming o'er each grotesque shape,
A hundred odd fantastic shadows fall.

He rests his head upon his hand, and dreams
Of a bright future, of enduring fame,

Nay, in his thoughts e'en now ambition graves
On fame's grand column his immortal name.

The music's spell o'er his tired spirit steals
And finds responsive echoes in his heart,

So in wild chaos strewn he leaves his books,
And seeks the fence to lend the song his part.

Youth ever lives within a golden age

Where music weaves its wreaths of golden dreams.
Farewell to dreamless sleep, to toil, to care,

'Neath spell of music and of starry beams.

io8

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A DOLLAR OR SO.

Our Tom is an excellent fellow,
Gay, witty, handsome and free;

In field or in cloister a marvel —
A notable Crichton is he.

But one deplorable failing,

It causes us deepest regret,
For among Tom's various talents,

He's a talent for getting in debt.

We'd forgive him his bills at the tradesmen's,
His dread of some people we meet,

The fact, when he goes to the boat-house,
He can go by only one street :

But he borrows from every acquaintance —
He wants it for '' only to-day " —

Some insignificant trifle

They never would ask him to pay.

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER IO9

And Tom's such a high-minded fellow,

He thinks not of matters so low,
And — all of his friends are the victims

Of " Lend me a dollar or so,"

Refer, howe'er gently, to payment —
You so overwhelmed with his grief

That you'd lend him your ultimate quarter
To give the poor fellow relief.

But again in a week he returneth,

" To trip the fantastic I go ;
My dress coat is down at my uncle's j

Pease lend me a dollar or so."

If he dies in the world's estimation.

The cause let this epitaph show ,
He was generous, handsome and brilliant,

But he died of — a dollar or so.

I IO BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

DISCONSOLATE.

Oft have I seen him wandering alone.

With mournful, downcast eye and footstep slow.
When naked, shivering boughs above him groan,
And cold winds blow.

What griefs are his ? Is his sad heart o'ercast

By bitter memories of days gone by,
Dark shadows called up from the phantom past
That never fly ?

And as I pass him, silently he turns

With longing gaze. Sometimes his pale lips part
To body forth a sad refrain that burns
Into my heart.

And then, he loves too well to steal away

My choice cigars, and cheat me if he can.
Betimes I wish that somebody would slay
That old clothes man.

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A GEOLOGICAL ROMANCE.

On the shore of the ocean primeval,

In dim geological times,
'Neath bowers of flourishing Fucoids,

The heroine dwelt of my rhymes.

In telling the charms of a lady,
We give but fractional praise ;

Propriety holds down the curtain
We're secretly wishing to raise.

But I'll give the fullest description,
Me modesty need not appall ;

This maid had a head and a body,
A delicate skin over all,

She'd a mouth, a foot microscopic,
In manner was mild as a lamb ;

In short she was only a bivalve,
A mollusk, a salt-water clam.

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She was happy and careless as ever
Clams are, until she was taught

The lesson of love by an oyster,

And the sweet little creature was caught.

Oft they met in a grove of the Algae,
The silvery sand was their sod,

And they whispered their love to each other
While warbled the Brachiopod.

Echinoderms sported round them ;

The Polyps with joy at the sight
Struck work at making their corals,

And went on a general "tight."

Said he, " Be my bride, O thou elfish
Gay naiad." " O yes, my dear lad,

But mount some moveable shellfish.
And ask my respectable dad "

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" Lamellibranchiate honored."

The Acephal opened his shell,
And bowed in proud condescension

To hear what news he would tell.

"I 've aspired to the foot of your daughter,

Although a plebian I am,
O quiet this passionate yearning

By the gift of your dear little clam.;'

" Rash upstart, depart from my presence,

Such longings are folly in you,
Do you think I'd marry my daughter

To an oyster, a mere parvenu ?"

" Your ventral segment's entirely

Too large for one of the ton,
You've only one hinge to your shell, sir,

You're an object to moralize on."

Then the oyster turned away sadly,
His pallium drew o'er his head,

1 14 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

" Oh mollusk, oh clam, stony-hearted,
I wish to the deuce I were dead."

He turned to his dear little bivalve,

(A rudimentary eye
Just now would be really welcome,

For pathos demandeth a cry.)

Then she said, " Let us fly from my father

Some azoic island our goal,
Pooh ! wicked !" (How very convenient

It is not having a soul.)

"We will rear us a house of the sea-weed,
What happiness greater than this, —

To have a pre-adamic Eden

With the joys of connubial bliss ? "

She yielded, and straightway they mounted,
On a swift sailing argonaut's shell,

" Come back, come back," followed after
In tones they knew but too well.

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But horrors ! a cuttle-fish rising

Bumped into their vessel by chance.

It tumbled them into the water,
And ended their little romance.

Like the whale that gobbled up Jonah,

He took each into his maw,
But unlike the whale's, his digestion

Followed quite the natural law.

On the shore of the ocean primeval,

Where the Apiocystis doth grow,
There is heard a grating of clam-shells,

That's highly expressive of woe.

I 1 6 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER-

THE SPIRIT OF SADNESS.

In the mellowed glow of the twilight,
I'm sitting and thinking alone,

And sweet is the sound of the wind-harp,
As it telleth of joys that have flown.

And my soul is accord with the music
That breathes in the tops of the trees,

And my eye in each shadow fantastic
The spirit of mournfulness sees.

And over my being the syren
A subtle enchantment has cast ;

No longer I look in the future,
But sadly I gaze on the past.

'T is the realm of the spirit of sadness,
And sweet are the murmurs that fill
Each mountain and dale ; but they echo
' With many a voice that is still.

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The chiming of silvery voices,

And the fragrant floweret's breath

Float by, but the breezes are tainted
By sorrow and weeping and death.

The noble, the true aspirations

That thrill as they wake in the soul,

Are deaf to the song of the banquet,
Are still in the " Knights of the bowl,

But stirred by the voices of sadness

The highest emotions arise
In the bosom of man, and the sorrow

That dwells in the depths of his eyes.

Is changed into peace, and the cypress
Gives place'to a crown of the bay ;

Grief turneth to joy as the darkness
Melts into the flush of the day.

1 1 8 BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER.

ON THE BAY.

The sun's last gleams have died on the ocean's

breast,
His crowning glories left each purple crest,
The gold has melted from the clouds away
And nature mourns in gloom the dying day.

And now the azure vault is studded all
With twinkling stars whose quiv'ring arrows fall.
Quick, darting, down the clear etherial steep
And wake to sparkling smiles the tossing deep.

While far adown the eastern sky serene
Announced by wav'ring path of silver sheen,
The moon arises and her witching light
Wraps all the senses in a calm delight.

Fast flying on before a fav'ring gale.
Over the gleaming bay, with every sail

BRIEFS BY A BARRISTER 1 1 9

Spread to the wind, our boat speeds on her way,
Dashing the curling waves to crystal spray.

And as we chase the glowing hours along,
We time their footsteps with a merry song,
The music ripples down our foaming track
Till distant cliffs send ringing echoes back.

How many a twice-told tale's repeated then,
And all applaud till echo lands again,
How float the smoke-wreaths to the starry skies,
And common pleasure strengthens friendship's ties.

And as we pass we hear the waves and tides
Dashing and gurgling round each vessel's sides,
While faint and dreamy to our tossing boat
The chimes of inland bells so mellow float.

Homeward we turn for o'er the water's face
The veiling mist is creeping on apace,
Trailing its humid garments o'er the sky,
And soon, too soon, the starry beauties die.

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And as we moor our boat beside the land,
Or tread with lingering step the speckled sand,
A shade of sorrow o'er our joy is cast —
Another golden day of dream-life's past.

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PARTING ODE.

Farewell, farewell ! sweet echoes rise

From out our happy past,
And as we list, our saddening eyes

With tears are overcast.
Oh, halcyon days that joy and youth

Have made almost divine,
The end has come, oh, bitter truth,

Your suns no longer shine.

Four years have been a sweet romance,

All free from sombre care,
A visioi in a gentle trance,

Soft floating in the air ;
Now comes the sad awakening,

Now fades our lovely dream,
While memories the moments bring

For earth too lovely seem.

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But every glowing, happy hour,

With all the joy it knew,
Will wake and thrill with wondrous power

Our slumbering souls anew,
Yes, when our locks are turning grey

We'll live this life once more,
Again our spirits will be gay,

As in the days of yore.

But sad the thought will ever be

Of this our last farewell :
Still, though we part, old Yale, from thee,

Thy glories we will tell ;
And for the sake of what has been,

Of peace and love and glee,
We'll ever hold, our hearts within,

Thy name, dear Seventy-three.

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